


Coordinates

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-31
Updated: 2006-07-31
Packaged: 2018-10-26 16:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10790661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: The scrap of parchment was worn and falling apart from repeated handling





	Coordinates

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: For [](http://autumn-grunge.livejournal.com/profile)[**autumn_grunge**](http://autumn-grunge.livejournal.com/) and [](http://odyssey01.livejournal.com/profile)[**odyssey01**](http://odyssey01.livejournal.com/) inspired by [this](http://edcommunity.apple.com/galleryfiles/1211/theTreeView2V_id109_v1.jpg) image. Happy holidays!  


* * *

The scrap of parchment was worn and falling apart from repeated handling. Over the last three years, she’d rubbed her thumb over it until the words have faded and it has become smooth. She memorized it, luckily, and knew it by heart. It was unsigned, the scrawl still visible sloping to the left, each word neat and precise.

She didn’t find until after he’d disappeared into the shadows of the night. By then, it had been too late for her to seek him. The war had begun in earnest, battle after battle until one blurred into another, days drifting into weeks into months. Years passed and finally it was over. Voldemort was defeated, the majority of Death Eaters had been rounded up and Kissed or put into Azkaban, and the world was being rebuilt.

There hadn’t been time for lovers, for dating and romance, not when every waking moment was spent helping Harry and trying to stay alive. There were no regrets about the reckless night of passion she’d unexpectedly experienced one sultry summer night when she was seventeen. She thought of it often: the way he’d looked at her as if he could see her very soul, the way he touched her with hesitant but firm caresses, the way he’d kissed her with a perfect mixture of gentleness and desire.

It hadn’t been planned. It was just a chance meeting in Diagon Alley between two people who had never spoken more than a handful of words to one another during six years at school. She’d been shopping for a present for Bill and Fleur’s wedding and he’d run into her as he left the bookstore. A meeting of eyes, a touch that sent sparks of awareness throughout her (she’d felt more from that casual touch of his hand on her arm than she’d felt during years of her infatuation with Ron), and she wasn’t sure if she kissed him or he kissed her. It hadn’t really mattered.

The kiss had been hungry, desperate, and she’d not protested when he led her to a small room at the Leaky Cauldron. There had been a bit of pain and then pleasure as they’d had sex. Even now she didn’t fool herself into calling it anything more than fucking. Her first time had been with a boy whose name she didn’t even know but whose kisses made her feel alive.

It was after that she learned his name. _Theodore_. He had been in Diagon Alley getting a few things together before he left the country. His forearm was smooth and he had no intention of marring it with the Mark like his father planned. With Dumbledore’s death and Malfoy’s choice, it was only a matter of time before he’d be forced to accept a future he didn’t want so he was leaving, running, hiding until it was all over or they found him, whichever happened first.

She didn’t call him a coward for running. She knew it was brave of him to stand up to his father and run. They fucked again, her riding him as he touched her breasts and hips, the second time much more enjoyable as she moved up and down. She could still remember the feel of his thin lips against hers and the way his slender body had felt pressed against hers.

He left before dawn. A whispered good-bye and good luck, a brush of a kiss against her mouth, and then he stepped into the shadows of the hallway. She’d found the note the next morning. A brief paragraph confessing that he’d watched her for the past two years at school and had often imagined what had happened between them the previous night, coordinates for Apparating, and an offer to meet again once the war was over if they managed to survive.

She didn’t know if he’d survived. His father was killed within the first year of the war but she never heard of them finding Theodore. There were times she heard his name whispered by the Slytherins who had fought on their side. Rumors of him working with Zabini, who was supposedly neutral to the conflict, to bring potions into villages after attacks and to aid survivors before Aurors and the Order arrived was the one she heard most often, but she didn’t ask if they were true because it was better to focus on helping Harry and surviving instead of whispered gossip.

She liked to think that Theodore had escaped, that he managed to get out and was living on the beach somewhere. There were times she hated him for running, for not staying and making a stand against something he obviously didn’t believe. Then there were times when she barely survived a mission and was glad that someone, somewhere might remember her if she didn’t live to see the end of the war.

It had been a long two weeks since Voldemort’s fall. She’d been in the hospital for half the time and had spent the time since being released attending trials and making statements until she wanted to just sit and scream. It was silly to believe that Theodore even remembered one night at the Leaky Cauldron and an offer probably made in the afterglow of good sex. She didn’t even know if he was alive much less planned to actually be at the place he’d mentioned all those years ago. The place might not even be there anymore anyway.

There were many reasons why she hadn’t picked up her wand and Apparated to the point in the letter. Barring that one night, she wasn’t reckless or daring. She always had plans and thought things through, especially about things that affected her personally. When she received a small box from an unknown owl after another day spent giving statements and finishing reports, she recognized the handwriting instantly and all the excuses she’d given herself since being released from St. Mungos suddenly didn’t seem so important.

After casting several charms just to make sure the package was safe, in case she was mistaken on the handwriting, she opened the box and found a piece of parchment with the same coordinates listed. Beneath the paper was a blindfold. When she picked up the blindfold, she felt a familiar tugging as a Portkey was activated.

She landed on sand, dropping the blindfold as she tried to get her bearings. There was a tree with golden leaves scattered along the branches and white sand for as far as she could see. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see him watching her. His hair was longer and he didn’t look quite as skinny as he had that night, there was a faint scar on his throat and he still had the same intense gaze as he looked at her.

Hermione studied him a moment and took a step closer. She ran her finger over the scar and looked up at him, licking her lips as she felt sparks of awareness at the gentle touch. He licked his lips and tangled his fingers in her hair. She sighed softly and moved closer. She wasn’t sure if he kissed her or she kissed him but, in the end, it really didn’t matter.  



End file.
